


Dream It, Do It

by steelehearts



Category: Hindu Mythology
Genre: Gen, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 04:58:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7029742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelehearts/pseuds/steelehearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Vidishā, Central India, at least 150 years before a messiah is born to a Jewish carpenter’s wife, Heliodorus, the Greek ambassador from Takshashilā, at the court of King Bhāgabhadra, has a dream, and acts upon it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream It, Do It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Azghal](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Azghal).



The place: Vidishā, central India.  
The time: At least 150 years still to go before a messiah is born to a Jewish carpenter’s wife.  
The protagonist: Heliodorus, the Greek ambassador from Takshashilā, at the court of King Bhāgabhadra of Vidishā.

Alexander is gone. Even Seleucus Nicator is no more. But the Bactrian Greeks rule the north-western parts of India. They style themselves kings. They reign. 

Such a king is Antialchides of Takshashilā. He has a number of lieutenants under him, one of whom is Dion. 

But Dion is old. And he has a son. 

Heliodorus.

Handsome and popular, with a large circle of friends, the Bactrian youth who aspires to be ‘a true Greek’, is known to all in Takshashilā. He is also a heavy spender. So much so that Dion is slowly going bankrupt. Antialchides is levying more taxes, but his is a dry province, and ultimately it is Dion who has to pay. He has remonstrated with his son, but to no avail. Heliodorus simply refuses to understand.

Then he got into trouble. Arrogant, hot-headed, and quick to pick a fight, he challenged an Indian merchant, Sumangala, to a duel following a quarrel over a dancing-girl, and killed him. The incident raised a minor uproar the news of which nevertheless reached the king’s court. Antialchides sent for Dion.

…

Heliodorus was sent to Vidishā, as an ambassador to king Bhāgabhadra’s court, partly as punishment and partly to save his skin. Half-repentant, half-frustrated, he began to behave himself. Soon, he earned a reputation for being a polite, generous and intelligent courtier. The king was pleased with him.

Roaming through the city one day, he came upon a beautiful garden. It did not seem to be a private one, so he went in and sat down beside the fountain. It was a hot day. The sound of the fountain playing and the shade of the trees lulled him to sleep. Suddenly, an attractive young man hardly out of adolescence bent over him and pushed him awake.  
‘What, still asleep? Get up! Get up! Can’t you see I’m waiting for you?’ The youth was laughing. 

Heliodorus jerked awake. Somebody was watching him. He turned around. A young girl was standing a little way off and observing him with her head on one side. A pretty girl, prettier than any Greek specimen of femininity, prettier than any woman Heliodorus had ever seen. No, an exquisitely beautiful girl stood in front of him, watching him silently. Before she could say anything, Heliodorus managed to find his tongue.  
‘I beg you pardon, my lady, I thought this was a public garden, and so I, I came in and… fell asleep,’ he finished lamely.  
‘That’s all right.’ The girl smiled. She had a sweet voice. ‘You are the foreign ambassador at the court, aren’t you?’  
‘Yes, my lady. How did you know?’  
‘I’ve heard my father speak of you.’  
‘And is your father a courtier too? I might know him…’

They were rudely interrupted by a gaggle of young girls, all of them well-dressed, but none as expensively as the first one. One of them rushed forward and took the first girl’s hand. ‘There you are! Let’s go home, your lady mother will be worried about you.’ She was frowning at Heliodorus. The beautiful girl turned to leave. Heliodorus panicked.  
‘My lady! You didn’t tell me who your father is!’  
The second girl threw him a look of contempt as they left. ‘She is the daughter of king Bhāgabhadra of Vidishā. Happy?’  
Heliodorus sat alone in the gathering darkness. Daughter of the king! Then she must be the princess Mālavikā. He had never dreamed of such beauty. He did not imagine so much beauty could exist…

For three months Heliodorus hung about the garden; he came everyday hoping to catch a glimpse of the princess. He prayed fervently to Apollo Belvedere begging him to grant him a sight of the unearthly beauty. Nothing happened. 

One day, as he returned from his daily vigil, an old beggar asked him for money. Absent-mindedly he gave the beggar a gold coin. Overjoyed at the windfall, the beggar blessed him loudly.  
‘Gods bless you, my lord! May Vāsudeva fulfill your every wish!’  
Heliodorus turned back. ‘What did you say?’  
‘Nothing much, lord. Just that, you’re so generous, Vāsudeva will fulfill your wish, that’s all,’ the beggar was frightened.  
‘Vāsudeva?’  
‘Yes, lord. The big temple in the middle of the city… don’t you know?’  
Know? Yes, indeed he did. He had seen thousands of devotees go in every morning, noon and night. But… ‘Why should he grant my wishes? I am from a different religion, a vidharmi. Will he grant my wish too?’  
‘He fulfils the wishes of everybody, my lord, if you pray with all your heart.’

Heliodorus went to the temple that night. He excited a few curious glances, but nobody forbade him to enter. In the innermost chamber he saw, above the flowers and garlands and chanting of mantras, above the smoke of burning incense, the beautiful, remote, yet familiar face of the god, his lips curved into a knowing smile. It seemed he was looking straight at Heliodorus. He folded his hands and prayed to the strange god. You know who I am. I am Heliodorus the Greek. But they say you don’t care what land, what religion your devotee is from. They say you grant everybody’s wishes. Please, grant mine. You know what I want. If you grant my wish, I will give you something too. Something beautiful for you, Vāsudeva.  
…

Heliodorus went to the temple a few more times, and offered pujā. Then he was called back to Takshashilā. White Huns were invading the borders of the Bactrian kingdoms. All able-bodied men were to offer themselves as soldiers. Heliodorus was caught up in this fray which went on for three years. It was in the third year that he was taken prisoner by the Huns.

Bound hand and foot, dog-tired, and awaiting death, Heliodorus lay in the smelly tent that served as prison. And fell asleep. And dreamt…

…of a lithe and handsome youth, not quite past his adolescence, beckoning to him.  
‘Come this way,’ he whispered. ‘Follow me.’  
Heliodorus did as he was told. The youth showed him a path that led to the mountain stream, and a tree that served as a landmark. Then he disappeared, leaving Heliodorus to wake up and consider his vision. 

That night, Heliodorus escaped following the route the unknown youth had shown him. 

When Heliodorus went back to Vidishā, he realized that three years had passed. He had changed. The city was the same though. The garden too stood at the same spot. He went in for old times’ sake and sat down as before, beside the merry fountain. The princess, he thought sadly, will have married by now, and moved off. Vāsudeva, you too didn’t listen to my prayers. And I prayed with all my heart.

A shadow fell on him. Heliodorus looked up to see the princess Mālavikā standing in front of him, with a lady-in-waiting beside her, and a smile on her lips.  
‘I thought you’d never come back, my lord,’ said the lady-in-waiting. ‘My little lady here has been worrying her head off for you. Do you know, she would come and sit here, thinking you would come by?’  
‘Vishākhā!’ murmured the princess in mock-consternation. Vishākhā grinned. 

…

They usually met in the garden. In the afternoons, when the entire city took their siesta, the lovers held their tryst while Vishākhā watched out for intruders. One evening, Heliodorus told Mālavikā about his agreement with Vāsudeva. Mālavikā sat up in surprise.  
‘You mean you actually said that you’ll give Vāsudeva a gift if he grants your wish?’  
‘Yes. Why? Is that wrong?’  
‘Not wrong, no. It’s just that…’ Mālavikā did not know what to say. His ignorance and innocence made her heart ache. Poor Heliodor! As if Vāsudeva expected gifts from men in return for fulfilling their wishes.  
Mālavikā said, ‘Heliodor, you should ask father now.’  
Heliodorus felt suddenly scared.

King Bhāgabhadra was not quite happy with the idea at first. However, his Queen made him see the point. After all, one of the sister-in-laws of one of her cousins had married a Greek landlord, had she not? What was wrong with Heliodorus marrying Mālavikā? 

So they were married.

A couple of nights later, Heliodorus was asleep when he felt someone prodding him. He opened his eyes to find the same sweet youth that had helped him escape from the Hun camp, standing before him. Before Heliodorus could say anything, he pouted in mock-annoyance, and said, ‘Where’s my gift? You said you’d give me a gift; when will you give it to me? Eh?’

A frisson of fear and wonder ran up Heliodorus’ spine even in his sleep. He had finally recognized the face; it was the face of the stone god in the temple. It was Vāsudeva. 

Heliodorus woke up. Vāsudeva! You did not forget Heliodorus; Heliodorus will not forget you.

Heliodorus erected a stone Garuda Dhvaja in Vidishā in honour of the great god Vāsudeva. It is still there.


End file.
